This isn't an aging Manny Pacquiao desperately trying to freeze the calendar.

It's a fight.

This doesn't feature lumbering heavyweights, one who can't and one who won't.

It's a fight -- the ultimate fight between the best that the ultimate weight division has to offer. They are the best among the middleweights, throwbacks to the way it used to be when only the best fought for titles at 160 pounds. These two are the lineal descendants of standard-bearers like:

For a brief time, when his body grew larger, there also was Roberto Duran.

It's a division where fighters move faster than heavyweights but hit almost as hard, even though they are least 40 pounds lighter.

Canelo (49-1-1, 34 KOs) and Triple G (37-0, 33 KOs) need no theatrics, no gimmicks and no chest-beating when they meet for the unified middleweight championship.

It's just a 10-minute taxi ride from the T Mobile Arena, where Canelo, 27, and Golovkin, 35, fight Saturday, to what once was the old backyard of Caesars Palace. In that parking lot, three middleweight legends hammered out the division's modern-era legacy.

That parking lot is gone now. So is the arena. Both were swallowed by the construction of a new hotel convention center. I drove by the other day and the sight touched a wellspring of memories, triggering images of great middleweights and three spectacular nights of boxing under the stars.

Ironically, Leonard and Hearns were not yet middleweights. Their bout was, in effect, a farewell to their careers as 147-pounders. But it was a show of what lay ahead for both when they morphed into 160-pounders.

So there was Leonard, one eye almost shut, answering the bell for the 13th round, willing himself into one last chance as he trailed on all three judges' scorecards. Hearns, a ferocious puncher, was just one punch away from ending the fight, which had been billed as "The Showdown."

Hearns never got to throw that punch.

In an amazing show of determination and courage, Leonard's gut check began as he answered the bell. His vision cut by 50 percent, he still managed to land a thunderous right hand that drove Hearns backward and wobbled his legs.

A barrage of combinations drove Hearns through the ropes. After that count, he was dropped again. He survived but Leonard stopped Hearns in the 14th -- an amazing feat since Leonard was badly damaged and trailed by enough on the cards to almost guarantee his defeat.

Now the middleweight division beckoned toward them. That was the start of it.

Next, promoter Bob Arum put together Hearns and Marvin Hagler and prophetically billed it as "The War." That label was an understatement, even though the fight lasted eight minutes. It began with the most ferocious first round I have ever seen in 68 years of covering boxing.

Hearns went after Hagler, forced the pace and hammered him. Hagler was forced to stand and fight. A ferocious right hand landed high on Hagler's forehead and a river of blood immediately began to pour down his face. Hagler stood and fought. At that point, they could have fought in a telephone booth. The punches from each were as powerful as they were accurate.

At the round's end, I turned to our beat writer and asked, "How did you have it?" He responded by breaking his pencil in half and throwing it over his shoulder.

I told him that Hearns won the round but Hagler just won the fight because he took the best Hearns ever had, and now Hearns had to wonder what else could he could do.

Hagler knew he had to end it. The cut was a major factor because the blood was running into his eyes. It may have been the defining moment of a career that in my view may have stamped him as the best middleweight during the toughest middleweight era.

When the bell rang for Round 2, there was a tell-tale wobble in Hearns legs. He had done all he could. He had assaulted the bigger man with all the power he had. And when he got off the stool for the Round 3, he was aware that his legs had betrayed him. Hagler began to take him apart.

By the end of the round, Hagler had him pinned on the ropes. Hagler's cut reopened at the start of the third. When the referee brought the doctor into the ring, Hagler understood that if he did it again, the fight would be over. He knew it was now or never.

A thunderous left drove Hearns back to the ropes. Then a right hook staggered him and Hagler pursued. Two lefts to the head ended it. It was as though Hagler put his autograph forever all over the middleweight title with a sledger hammer.

And there would be one more reminder of how powerful this middleweight division was. It came with Leonard-Hagler, a highly controversial decision won by Leonard on the judges' scorecards and Hagler on mine -- among a lot of others.

All of this was a certification of what it means to be a champion or a contender in the social circle of the pugilistic giants. These are the stakes for Canelo and Triple G as the moment rushes toward them.

In the words of the champion from Kazakhstan:

"It is hard to stay in the middleweight division. The middleweight division has a special history ... a special place in boxing. You have to be ready, prepared when you fight in this division. This fight is so special.''

And we don't get many of them these days.

Jerry Izenberg is Columnist Emeritus of The Star-Ledger. He can be reached at jizenberg@starledger.com.